


the perfect crime

by oryx



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keeping a thief occupied is more trouble than it's worth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the perfect crime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nonakani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonakani/gifts).



> in the end, i used this as an excuse to write my otp. i'm so sorry :')  
> (haha time for tsundere)

She’s halfway through a story about her most recent con (counting cards at the Celadon Casino while “casing the joint for a _minor_ burglary, nothing big”) when Sabrina finally interrupts her.

 

“Is this going to take much longer?” she says, her voice clipped. “Don’t you have somewhere else you could be right now?”

 

Blue pouts in a manner that is not at all cute and presses a hand to her heart. “What, you don’t enjoy the pleasure of my company? I’m hurt, Sabrina.”

 

Sabrina can feel a headache coming on. “In case you haven’t noticed,” she hisses, “I am _attempting_ to run a gym here. You’re distracting me.”

 

Blue raises an eyebrow and glances around the mostly-empty gym. Sabrina’s Alakazam is currently leading the rest of her Pokemon in a calming meditation session. In the corner her assistants Amanda and Tasha are reading each other’s tarot cards, oblivious to their Abras zapping around the room, having what looks like a Teleport contest.

 

“Ah, yes,” Blue says with a wry smile. “You seem to have _quite_ a few irons in the fire.”

 

Sabrina scowls at her. “…Why have you been spending so much time here, anyhow?” she mutters. “Had a falling-out with your hero friends?”

 

“No, no, nothing like that. I like them well enough, but they can be a bit…” Here she pauses and frowns, making a vague, nebulous gesture with her hands. “Let’s just say that our ‘life experiences’ don’t quite match up. If you get my drift. There’s things I can’t talk to them about. Things they wouldn’t understand. But you, on the other hand…”

 

Sabrina blinks and hurriedly glances away. The back of her neck feels suddenly, inexplicably warm.

 

“Anyhow,” Blue continues, “if you want to get rid of me so badly, I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little more creative than ‘I’m busy.’”

 

Sabrina opens her mouth and promptly closes it again. She wracks her mind. With Blue gone for a few days perhaps she’d finally be able to relax. (She can never seem to focus when Blue is around, thoughts drifting as she listens to the lilt of her voice, and thus her ESP has a tendency to weaken, leaving her feeling nervous and vulnerable.)

 

“Alright,” she says slowly. “How about… a test? To challenge your so-called ‘skills’ as a thief.”

 

Blue turns to look at her and there is a gleam of intrigue in her eye. “…I’m listening.”

 

“Your goal,” Sabrina says, hastily inventing the specifics, “is to steal one item from each of us Rocket execs. _Without_ being caught in the act. And you only have two weeks – starting today – to do it.”

 

Blue’s smile is more pronounced, now, fingers tapping out a restless rhythm against her thigh. “Interesting,” she murmurs. “Any other… _guidelines_?”

 

“The items you steal have to be significant – something we’ll notice if they go missing. For Koga, it should be… a photograph. He keeps it on his person at all times, as far as I’m aware. You’ll know it when you see it. For the Lieutenant, his dog tags. Both of them. He hardly ever takes them off. And as for me – ”

 

“Whoa now,” Blue says. “If you knew what I was going to take from you, I’d be at a severe disadvantage. For you it’ll be a surprise, mmkay?”

 

“…Fine,” Sabrina concedes. She supposes she’ll just have to be more alert than usual for the next few weeks. No way in hell is she letting Blue rifle through her personal belongings. “Remember: two weeks is the limit. If you fail to complete this little challenge within the time allotted, I win. I haven’t yet decided on the… _victory spoils_ , so to speak, but I can assure you that they’ll be good.”

 

“Oh, I’ll get it done with time to spare,” Blue says with a wink. “See, now this is an intriguing diversion you’ve thought up. You’re getting so much better at distracting me, Sabrina. I’m touched, really I am.”

 

She makes her way across the room, then, reaching up and hauling herself on to the window ledge, the window itself still flung wide open from her impromptu entrance earlier.

 

“Au revoir,” she says, blowing a kiss. “Don’t miss me too much!”

 

“Will you just – we do have a _door_ , you know,” Sabrina hisses, but Blue is already gone, the window shut firmly behind her with a click.

 

.

 

.

 

It’s nearly a week until she sees Blue again.

 

Perhaps, she thinks, this… game of theirs was _not_ the most well-laid of plans. Instead of relaxing, she’s instead spent the past few days on edge, distracted in the middle of battles, wondering when Blue might strike. (She learned the art of illusion from Koga, and has used it to hide away her most important possessions, but she still finds herself counting each and every one of them, once in the morning and once at night, just in case.)

 

So of course she’s relieved when Blue shows up. It’s common sense, after all – better to have her where Sabrina can see her. It has nothing to do with _missing_ her. God, no.

 

“About time,” she says with a sneer, as Blue slips in once more through the window. “You’d better have at least two of them, if it took you this long.”

 

“I do indeed,” Blue says. She’s wearing the dog tags, so that victory at least is evident. They clink together as she pulls up a chair and joins Sabrina at the table. She purses her lips thoughtfully. “I’ll admit, your friends gave me more strife than I thought they would. Well, I knew the ninja would be trouble. But blondie, he took me by surprise. Loud people tend to be pretty careless with their valuables. Guess he’s the exception to the rule.” She shrugs; unclasps the dog tags from around her neck, then reaches down the front of her shirt to pull out the photograph. She slides both across the table with a faint, sly smile. “There you are. Two thirds of your challenge complete.”

 

Sabrina examines them with a discerning eye. They don’t look like dupes, but even so she closes her eyes and traces back the memories stored within them. The faces she sees in her mind are blurry, certainly, but clearly recognizable as Koga and the Lieutenant.

 

“They’re legitimate,” she says, and adds, grudgingly: “Good work.”

 

Blue raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I’d actually try to _trick_ you, did you? Do you really hold me by such low standards?”

 

Sabrina levels her with a deadpan glare.

 

“So what’s the story here?” Blue asks, picking up the dog tags and turning them over in her hand. “Did Mister Army Man change his name or something? With a name like,” she squints at the rusty surface, “‘Raymond Mancini’ I guess I can’t really blame him. Not terribly villainous-sounding.”

 

“They’re not his,” Sabrina says absently. She returns to the gym budget she was balancing, frowning as she peruses the list of expenses. 10,000 for Poffins? Absolutely ridiculous. “Apparently they belonged to some kid who served under him in the war. That’s all he’s ever said about it.”

 

Blue falls silent for nearly a minute.

 

Sabrina glances up to find her looking rather grim, all the easygoing cheer of before gone from her eyes.

 

“…What about her?” she says softly, tapping the faded old photograph. In it, a rosy-cheeked toddler with a tuft of dark hair beams up at the camera, hugging a stuffed Venonat tightly. “She’s not… she’s not dead too, is she?”

 

“Oh, no,” Sabrina says, waving a hand dismissively. “They’re just… tragically estranged. To put it in the simplest terms.” Blue breathes a shuddering sigh of relief, then, and Sabrina raises an eyebrow. “I never took you as the type to care about sob stories.”

 

“Well obviously I’d be upset,” Blue mutters, “finding out someone’s kid was dead and I just swiped their most precious memento. ‘Tragically estranged’ is bad enough as it is. God, you work with some unexpectedly depressing people.”

 

“Unexpected? Really?” Sabrina rolls her eyes. “I’m sure it must come as a shock, but Team Rocket doesn’t exactly go hand-in-hand with ‘led a normal, happy life.’ ‘Disenchanted’ might as well be a membership prerequisite.”

 

“… Well what about you?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You have a sad story, too?”

 

Blue is staring at her rather intensely, leaning across the table so that the distance between them is tangible, and Sabrina swallows hard.

 

“As if I’d tell you,” she mutters. She pushes the dog tags and photograph back towards Blue. “Now go return these before those dumbass old men have heart attacks or something.”

 

.

 

.

 

“Oh,” Tasha says, eyes widening. “Miss Sabrina, your… your earring is…”

 

“Hmm?” Sabrina lifts a hand without meaning to, expecting to touch cool metal, but finds her ear suspiciously unburdened. She blinks. Did she forget to put them on today? But no, that’s not possible. She remembers her morning routine quite clearly. And the other earring is still securely in place.

 

Immediately, panic begins to set in, coiling tight and hot in her chest. She glances around anxiously, scanning the gym floor for any glint of metal or gemstone. Where could it have fallen? If it’s back in her apartment it should be easy enough to find, but she ran those errands earlier. If it fell out then –

 

Wait, she thinks. It’s not like it _matters_. It’s just a stupid earring, after all. And most likely it’s not even lost. Stolen, no doubt, though how she managed to swipe it from right under Sabrina’s nose is… impressive, to say the least. In all likelihood Blue is smirking right now, thinking she’s _won_ by pilfering some meaningless piece of jewelry. Sabrina laughs to herself in a manner that is not at all relieved.

 

Tasha is staring at her in blatant confusion. “Would you… like some help looking for it?” she offers. “It might be around here somewhere – ”

 

“No,” Sabrina says shortly. “Don’t concern yourself. I’m sure it’ll turn up. And it’s hardly important anyhow.”

 

Tasha looks at her strangely for a moment before nodding. “Of course, Miss Sabrina,” she says, with a faint smile. (But despite her agreement, she still seems to be searching the floor around her as she walks away.)

 

.

 

.

 

“Very funny, Blue,” Sabrina says, not even bothering to turn when she hears the window open. “I hope you don’t think you’ve won.”

 

“Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blue says casually, sidling up next to her, joining her in her observation. Amanda is in the middle of a practice match with one of the students from the dojo next door – she has the upper hand, of course; few fighting-type trainers could dream of standing a chance in this gym. But it’s still a fairly interesting battle nonetheless. The boy’s Hitmonlee is well-trained and quick to adapt. “Your assistant needs to brush up on her basics.”

 

Sabrina looks sidelong at Blue, raising an eyebrow. “You think so too? She’s giving him far too many opportunities. And don’t change the subject. I know you have the earring, and I’m telling you it doesn’t count. The rule was very clear: the item has to be something meaningful. And those earrings are _not_ meaningful. I wear them every day because they match my eyes nicely. That’s all.”

 

For a time Blue is silent. The two of them watch as Amanda commands her Slowbro to use a Psybeam attack, which proves useless against its opponent’s superior evasion.

 

“… By ‘earrings,’” Blue says slowly, “you’re talking about the ones I got you for your birthday? The ones you wrinkled your nose at and said ‘oh, how quaint’?”

 

Sabrina scowls. “Don’t play coy. You know exactly what I mean.”

 

“Right, right,” Blue murmurs. The corner of her mouth twitches, in that way it does when she’s fighting back laughter. “So you think I stole one of those earrings from you, as part of our little challenge?”

 

“Obviously,” Sabrina hisses, though she’s beginning to feel the first stirrings of doubt in the back of her mind.

 

“And you want me to know,” Blue continues, “that it doesn’t count, because they don’t matter to you at all. Despite wearing them – what was that you said? _Every day_? Something I’ve never noticed, oddly enough. And I consider myself a pretty observant person. Actually, when I think about it, your hair is usually covering your ears every time I drop by. Almost as if… you don’t want me knowing that you’re wearing them?”

 

Shit, Sabrina thinks. She can feel her face growing hot, and stares out at the battle intently, trying and failing to focus on the movements of Amanda’s Kadabra.

 

“I haven’t taken anything from you yet,” Blue says. The amusement in her voice is more pronounced, now. “I swear it on my honor as a thief. Which means… you must have lost it. But hey. Who cares, right? They don’t actually _mean_ anything to you. Just a silly gift that you happen to wear _every single day_ – ”

 

Sabrina makes a frustrated noise and turns sharp on her heel, making a beeline for the back room, trying desperately to will the flush from her cheeks. “You’re right,” she calls over her shoulder. “I don’t care! And I think you should be more concerned about yourself, Blue. Only three days left. You’re going to lose this bet if you don’t hurry up.”

 

“I dunno, pretty sure I’ve already won,” Blue calls back, laughing, and Sabrina slams the door shut behind her with a huff.

 

.

 

.

 

Later that week she arrives home to find her grandmother’s antique doll missing from its usual spot on her dresser. In its place are a tiny little box and a handwritten note.

 

 _You don’t know how hard it was to find another pair of these,_ it reads. _You’re lucky I’m so persistent!_

 

The note is ‘signed’ with a smudged blue lipstick kiss, and Sabrina grimaces, crumpling it up and throwing it unceremoniously in the trash.

 

She opens the small box and stares down at the new pair of earrings – the same dark purple stone, the same black detailing – and maybe, just maybe, feels a modicum of happiness. Perhaps she even allows herself a slight, genuine smile.

 

(They _do_ match her eyes, after all.)


End file.
